Badly done Mr Brown

Read Kate Hoey’s article Olympic ideals? It’s a grotesque charade on Telegraph.co.uk for a take on the Olympic torch fiasco on Sunday that Gordon Brown will not enjoy.

This heavy mob [the Chinese toughs in blue tracksuits] that charmlessly controlled the torchbearers yesterday, shouting orders at the runners, showed that even a public-relations offensive by the Beijing authorities is a brutal and heavy-handed affair. When the torch arrived no one saw the flame or even the runner – the Downing Street gates opened and the Prime Minister, in front of a small crowd of trusted apologists, participated in a gravely miscalculated photo opportunity.

Protesters were not just drawing attention to China’s oppression in Tibet but they were speaking out against its dismal record of support for the genocide in Darfur and the long-running military dictatorship in Burma.

Using a form of “spin” of which the politburo in Beijing would be proud, our powers-that-be decided to make a distinction between the thousands of pro-Tibetan and the pro-Chinese spectators along the route. Pro-Tibetans were “demonstrating” or “protesting” while the “Chinese were celebrating” (with help from their Embassy, which provided them with flags and banners praising the Motherland).

I simply cannot understand why Gordon Brown has allowed himself to be embroiled in this mess. It shows either bad judgment or bad advice.

Enough said.

So talking to yourself really does work

It is not April 1, so it must be true. According to a report in today’s Telegraph, talking to yourself is actually good for the brain and mental well being. According to Julie Henry, the Telegraph’s Education Correspondent,

Studies have found that “self-talking” can aid concentration, help solve problems and lift depressive moods.

I suppose it may depend upon what you say to yourself. Working in an open-plan office, I cannot but hear one of my partners, who is forever exhorting himself to “Get a grip” and “Come on, get on with it”. Talking to yourself may, as the psychiatrist Paul Horton is reported as having found when carrying out his survey, help to raise glum spirits. I just reckon that my next door neighbour is barking.

Spring butterflies

Today has been one of those April days when we have seen snow, hail, and sun, where a cold wind has kept us out of the garden, and yet the greenhouse has been so warm that I have been in shirtsleeves. We woke to snow, forecast by the Met Office, and as we drove up the hill behind the town, looking back we could see the tops of the High Moor lightly covered. Two hours later we returned in bright sunshine, the back of the Land Rover packed with plants and potting compost.

Spring is in the garden, and despite the fact that we now have help, there is a lot for us to do. Yesterday the roses in the courtyard had to be tied back, and wires replaced; today more tidying up, as well as the new plants to be sorted, and everything prepared. My greenhouse is still waiting for the first alpines.

And this is the time of year when we are pulled two ways, out into a garden that is just breaking into life, or up onto the moor or through the woods, to watch for birds and wait for summer visitors. Last week we were back in Yarner Wood, and knew that spring was here, as we watched Brimstone butterflies along the woodland paths, sulphur yellow males and the lighter greenish tinged females, like autumn leaves but falling upwards. The feeders at the hide were empty, but long-tailed tits romped through the tree tops and we watched a pair of nuthatches cleaning out nest box number 5, below the hide, ready for use. Opposite, in the high pines, we could see, and hear, the ravens. Next time we go, the pied fly-catchers should be back, and the greater spotted woodpeckers nesting.

Home from home

If the Chinese (and the London 2012 National Olympics Committee) were hoping that the Olympic torch relay across London was to be a journey of harmony and peace, they will have been disappointed. Protesters, the weather, and Londoners’ apathy (did they really think that the participation of celebrities, the curse of Western life, was going to ensure a respectable turnout) have seen to that. Two things struck me reading the reports and watching the news. First the involvement of the Prime Minister, always one to avoid the difficult moment (but then as I have posted before he talks more about courage than showing it). Thus, according to Reuters,

Brown greeted the torch behind Downing Street’s closed steel gates in front of a vetted crowd as protesters scuffled with police outside and Beijing supporters waved Chinese flags and banged drums.

The Chinese will have felt well and truly at home.

And, secondly, the evident discomfort of Tessa Jowell, interviewed about the protests by the BBC,

“The welcome of the Olympic torch to London is not the same as condoning the human rights regime in China or condoning the treatment of Tibet.”

Only up to a point (and her face made that clear). China’s view is clear: the Games should not be politicized. Similarly, the IOC has vigorously defended its policy of non-involvement in politics. But as history has shown time after time, sport and politics are inextricably linked, and sport is used, directly and indirectly, for political purposes across the world. The Chinese are as guilty (if that is the right word) as anyone else, as the Beijing Olympics are being used by the Chinese themselves to demonstrate that the Chinese regime has changed.

The problem is that you cannot have it both ways, using sport for your own political agenda, and yet deny the same to those who do not share your views. Beijing Olympic torch relay spokesman Qu Yingpu let the mask slip, when he told the BBC, “This is not the right time, the right platform, for any people to voice their political views.” Yet as Tessa Jowell pointed out, lawful, peaceful protest is part of our democratic tradition. It is just that peple don’t like their parties being spoilt.

Moments of madness

Andrew Gimson’s blog on Telegraph.co.uk on Harriet Harman is excellent, but best was his comment in his parliamentary sketch in the paper, on Nick Clegg, everybody’s arsy 6th former,

“. . . who has made a laughing stock of himself by claiming, in a moment of madness, or possibly 30 moments of madness, to have slept with 30 women.”

It has been some time since a Liberal leader has felt the urge (wait for it) to stress his heterosexual credentials. My only thought, regarding Mr Clegg, was who was having the moment of madness.